


Wings of Gold

by sorbetjin



Category: K-pop, 방탄소년단 | Bangtan Boys | BTS
Genre: Action & Romance, Alcohol Abuse/Alcoholism, Alternate Universe - Royalty, Angst, Angst and Hurt/Comfort, Battle, Drama, Enemies to Friends to Lovers, Eventual Romance, Friends to Lovers, Homoeroticism, Implied/Referenced Child Abuse, Jeon Jungkook is a Brat, Knight Jung Hoseok | J-Hope, Love Triangles, M/M, Nobility, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Park Jimin (BTS) is a Tease, Pianist Min Yoongi | Suga, Prince Park Jimin (BTS), Psychological Trauma, Rebellion, Religious Imagery & Symbolism, Rivalry, Romance, Sexual Tension, Slow Burn, Swords, War
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-06-15
Updated: 2020-08-16
Packaged: 2021-03-04 03:14:52
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 5
Words: 17,350
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24726580
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sorbetjin/pseuds/sorbetjin
Summary: Jeon Jungkook despised anything to do with nobles— the fancy clothes, the lavish parties, the blatant disregard for anyone below them. Despite this, he agreed to attend the prestigious academy for nobles upon Hoseok’s insistence, and found himself crossing paths with the well-liked crown prince and the insufferable earl from the East Kingdom.But perhaps there was more to Jimin than a pretty prince simply waiting for his turn at the throne—his smile a tad too tight; his eyes a little too cold.Perhaps there was more to Taehyung than an arrogant earl who had been handed everything from birth— everything Jungkook never had.And perhaps, life amongst nobles wasn’t quite the Elysium it was made out to be.// bts nobility au
Relationships: Jeon Jungkook/Kim Taehyung | V, Jeon Jungkook/Park Jimin, Jung Hoseok | J-Hope/Min Yoongi | Suga, Kim Namjoon | RM/Kim Seokjin | Jin
Comments: 13
Kudos: 35





	1. prologue

**Author's Note:**

> ok so i've had a comment on another one of my maknae line love triangle fic about this issue and no, the order in which the pairings appear in the tags doesn't mean one is more important than the other. I'm deciding who ends up tgt as the story goes along so no spoilers in the tags lol dw :)) js a little disclaimer
> 
> hope u enjoyy

“And what did you say your name was?”

Jungkook felt the corners of his lips twitch. _Again?_

The man in front of him— a stern expression; slicked back hair; jewel-covered fingers— was testing his patience. Of course he was. Those of noble blood had never thought of commoners as creatures worth their time. Naturally, the headmaster of such a prestigious academy, a noble of the Kim household at that, wouldn’t be the odd one out.

The hands in his lap curled into fists. He had come this far. If he let his temper flare now, Hoseok would never forgive him.

“Jeon Jungkook,” He said, making himself smile so sweetly, he felt disgusted with himself. Then, after a beat, he added, “Your Grace.”

“ _Jeon_ Jungkook?” The headmaster said, eyeing him over the rim of his glasses. “I’ve never heard of your family.” 

Jungkook regarded him stiffly. “What are you implying?”

“Coming here at seventeen, from an unknown family, with a letter of recommendation from a war hero?” His gaze was piercing, his tone cold, the disbelief in his words clear as day. He waved the roll of parchment in the air, the symbol of the Hope of Jeolla shining a brilliant gold. “Surely, you understand how all of this sounds?”

Unfortunately, Jungkook _did_.

He gritted his teeth. He already knew this would happen. This was precisely the reason why he had told Hoseok that coming to an academy for aristocrats, never mind asking to enrol a year later than his peers, was simply preposterous.

Just because _he_ made it to the top despite all odds, it didn’t mean Jungkook could simply follow in his footsteps. After all, even Hoseok hadn’t gone to the academy before entering the military. What Jungkook was doing was unheard of; verging on insanity altogether.

“With all due respect, Your Grace,” Jungkook spoke, lips dry. “Jung Hoseok himself welcomed me at the gates. I’m sure he won’t hesitate to come down from his office to vouch for me personally, if you find the letter lacking.”

The headmaster narrowed his eyes. “Then perhaps I should ask for him.”

“That won't be necessary,” A silky voice called out, making Jungkook flinch as the heavy office door behind him opened and shut in quick succession. “Father.”

A man walked in, stopping directly behind his chair. He rested a hand on top of his shoulder, and Jungkook tensed underneath his touch. He snuck a glance up.

Pale and handsome; a strong, sure gaze; full, cherry lips, and an undeniable air of grace. Even low-ranked commoners like him knew of this man— the youngest of the Duchy of Gyeonggi, the first to be granted a writ of acceleration after the battle; Marquess Seokjin.

“What do you mean, son?”

“I’ve no doubts about Hoseok’s evaluation.” Kim Seokjin simply smiled, giving his shoulders a light, reassuring squeeze. “If he says he trusts this kid, I believe him.”

Jungkook wanted to say, _I’m not a kid!_ but he was far too baffled to even attempt to correct the marquess. What was he doing, helping him out of nowhere?

“But he isn’t of noble blood,” the headmaster scowled. “If word was to get out that I allowed commoners to worm in here—”

“It is true that neither of his parents are nobility,” Seokjin said. “But I think your worries are baseless, father. Not only will this show that you are a ruler with no prejudice and win over the heart of the nation, you will prove to the other academies that we are superior. Hoseok has vouched for Jungkook, praising him as a multi-faceted prodigy. I say we take the gift that has fallen into our laps, yes?”

Jungkook wanted to sink into his seat. They've known each other since they were children, and though Hoseok made it no secret that he found Jungkook endearing, he didn’t think he was held in such high regard. It was albeit embarrassing to have the headmaster study him so curiously.

“...I do agree that the boy’s alleged skill-set is vital to us. We can claim we found a diamond in the rough, but,” The headmaster stroked his chin, deep in thought. “To cater to the people even though this is a school for nobles, it is too risky. We’re not acting in the best interests of our target, my son.”

“The people will hear about your kindness! Father, can’t you see?” Seokjin spread his arms open, smiling. “Our businesses will surely be more favoured, particularly the ones near commoners, and the profits would increase twofold. Jeon Jungkook will be a worthy investment.”

“And you’re sure of this?”

“Absolutely positive.”

Jungkook swallowed hard. Everything the marquess was saying seemed like a stretch, but it was clearly working; the headmaster nodded sagely, staring at the parchment in his hands once more, his thumb going over the hard wax seal.

Then, the headmaster lifted his head, and extended a hand out. “Welcome to the academy, Jeon Jungkook. I hope you can forgive my initial harshness.”

Jungkook plastered on his smile again, taking his hand. “No, no, of course, Your Grace. I completely understand.”

Yeah, as if Jungkook didn’t just watch him perk up at the mention of profits. He was being used, so shamelessly so, by the Duke of Gyeonggi, and he felt a bit sick knowing his true intentions. There was no _goodness of his heart_ coming at play; at the end of the day, all that mattered was money, money, and more money.

“If you’ll excuse us, father, I’ll show him to his room.”

Before Jungkook could stop him, Seokjin leaned down and picked up his suitcase, handing it to him with a smile. Jungkook hurriedly wrapped his hands around his scabbard, lest the marquess dared help him with it, but it seemed he knew better than to try touch a man’s weapon.

“Alright, but do keep in mind to show up to the banquet on time,” The headmaster waved them along. “The food is simply splendid. Much better than what you’re used to, I’m sure.”

Seokjin closed the door behind them, and he let out a sigh.

Jungkook glanced up at him, shifting his weight timidly. Now that they were alone, he wasn’t quite sure how to speak with the marquess. He had helped him out tremendously, but Jungkook didn’t know why he even bothered to.

“Um, what’s the banquet for?” Jungkook asked. He couldn’t recall any important dates that would call for such a celebration.

Seokjin turned. In the dimly lit hall, he seemed almost otherworldly, like a creature ripped straight out of a fantasy tale. Jungkook had heard plenty about the marquess, but somehow, seeing him with his own two eyes felt surreal. He had witnessed an exchange between two powerful members of the peerage, and it gave him a suspicion that perhaps, the real reason why the marquess had quickly won the trust of many the moment he joined the House of Lords— a rare occurrence for young nobles— wasn’t simply because of his dashingly good looks, but more so due to his eloquent way of speaking.

The marquess seemed to be having thoughts of his own. Moments passed as he studied Jungkook, before he abruptly lifted a hand and gestured towards the far right. They walked alongside each other, their footsteps echoing throughout the large hallway.

Jungkook was in awe of the massive pillars and intricate carvings on the wall he didn’t have the liberty to gawk at when he first arrived. Despite feeling the smooth stone underneath his fingertips, he still couldn’t quite comprehend that he was a student at the academy now.

“The banquet is the opening ceremony, essentially.”

Seokjin’s voice made him jump, and he had to rack his brain to remember what prompted the answer. “Oh,” He said belatedly.

A crowd of students passed by, lords and ladies dressed in gold-trimmed coats and big, puffy skirts. Their eyes lit up, excitedly murmuring amongst themselves when they noticed the marquess. Then, their line of sight shifted onto him, and Jungkook watched as their pretty and prim faces turn into ghastly disgust.

Jungkook brought his suitcase to his chest, determined not to meet their eyes. Maybe he would’ve been better off not wearing his one and only coat— torn at the sides and haphazardly sewn back together, patches of discolored cloth fraying at the edges where linen met cotton— Jungkook internally cursed his mother for convincing him to wear it. He could’ve just braved the cold, after all. It was silly trying to ‘dress up’, or so she had called it.

“Say, is the banquet, um,” He cleared his throat. “A fancy event?”

A look of confusion flashed through Seokjin’s features, but when he noticed the stream of students heading towards the hall, pulling faces at Jungkook, he softened. “I suppose so. Pay them no mind. It’s rather unfortunate if you were to judge our academy by the few… rotten apples, for lack of a better term.”

“Not like I expected much.” He grumbled.

They passed by the boys’ infirmary and turned a corner once more, and were met with a hallway that was lined with ten identical wooden doors with gold blocks of numbers on them. Jin gave the key in his hand a brief glance, muttering the numbers out loud as they continued ahead and turned another corner.

Jungkook knew the academy was big, but with each door they went by, his heart grew heavier. Did he really have to walk so far every day to get to his room? But thankfully, the marquess came to a halt two doors short from the end of the hallway.

“You see, Jungkook,” Seokjin stopped. He turned the key, and the door swung open. But before Jungkook could walk past him, he lifted a hand, barring him from entry. His eyes glinted. “You’d best keep your attitude in check. I’m sure you know, amongst nobility, wit and a sharp tongue will kill a man faster than a spear to the heart.”

Jungkook’s eyebrows dipped. “Was that a threat?”

“Oh, no.” He gave Jungkook a wry smile. “I’d hate to see you dead in a ditch so soon after I just saved your ass. After all, not everyone’s as forgiving as me.”

“That’s not very reassuring.”

Jungkook bit his lip, setting his suitcase down on his bed and his sword against the wall. The room, nearly twice as big as his at home had a bed, a large wardrobe, and a desk. He supposed it was kept empty so the students could decorate it as they pleased, but with only his suitcase and sword, it seemed more like a cheap inn than a comfortable living space.

“Aren’t you changing?”

Jungkook blinked. “Changing? These are the best clothes I have.”

“Oh.” Seokjin said. They stared at each other. Then, abruptly, he clasped his hands together. “Well, I guess that saves time. Come, let’s hurry.”

“Where’s Hoseok?” Jungkook asked, locking the door behind him and slipping the key into his pocket. “I haven’t seen him since we met at the gates.”

“I don’t think he’ll be attending the banquet,” Seokjin said, his gaze trained straight ahead. “He’s still not allowed to drink— not until his leg gets better anyway. Wish I could just sit this out with him, if I'm being honest. But alas, my attendance is mandatory, lest a fight break out amongst the kids. You know how foolish the young ones can be.”

Jungkook nodded slowly, unsure if he’d get into trouble if someone were to overhear him agreeing to something that could be considered insulting.

They were approaching the banquet hall. Jungkook could see the light spilling from the cracks of the massive doors, the sounds of chatter growing the nearer they got.

“How close are you and Hobi?”

The nickname slipped from his lips, and he glanced nervously at Seokjin. The commonfolk were used to calling him affectionately after his title as the Hope of Jeolla. But what _they_ thought of as normal, the noblemen might not agree with. The peers were especially fussy about titles and ranks. Someone who came from the Duchy of Gyeonggi— how would he react?

Yet, the marquess didn’t even seem to notice.

“We’re friends. Hobi and I met before he left for battle. He was stationed quite near to our estate, and I found him rather charismatic. I couldn’t resist having a chat with him every now and then. He seems to understand how the world works, and I appreciate that.” Seokjin chuckled to himself. Then, he directed his smile at Jungkook; warm and soft around the edges, perhaps the only real one he had given that evening. “I’m sure you have plenty of tales about him that I’ve yet to hear about. Hobi said you two grew up together. He seems fond of you.”

Jungkook reddened. “I think you’d have more stories to tell. The capital must get more news than us, especially considering where he was stationed during his glory days. ”

“It would sadden him if you think his golden age has ended. I’d like to think he’d be able to get back onto the field after this little incident.” Seokjin nodded at the guards who held the door open, before turning back to Jungkook again. There was a slight pause; a hint of hesitation. “The fact that the Hope of Jeolla himself personally recommended you— it’s both a blessing and a curse. I hope you realise that it’s not just your reputation on the line, should you mess up.”

Jungkook grimaced. Of course he knew that. Being the only commoner in a school for nobles was nothing short of extraordinary, and all of commonfolk could get a bad image if he acted crassly. Who knew what would happen if he made them think Hoseok made a poor decision by choosing him? The major general would lose all the credibility he had worked so hard to build from ground up— Jungkook didn’t want that.

Suddenly, he was made aware of the way the guards were staring at him, as were the students in the hall. These people were powerful, and Jungkook? Jungkook was nothing. One wrong move, and he’d lose it all.

He swallowed, and straightened up.

“Yes, I’ll be sure to keep that in mind.”

“No pressure. Tonight, just enjoy yourself.” Seokjin patted him on the back. “Oh, and a gentle reminder that classes start tomorrow, so do try to hold back on the liquor, okay?”

And just like that, the marquess disappeared, swallowed by the sea of lace and velvet suits.

Jungkook figured he might as well head straight for the food. The day had been long and hard, and he blamed the illusion of the slow passage of time on the fact that he had to sit through the painfully pointless interview with the headmaster directly after his three-days-long carriage ride there.

Jungkook tried not to drool all over himself. The food looked splendid; meat dripping with glistening honey sauce, piles of fruits he had never even seen before, rows and rows of cakes topped with fluffy cream. His stomach growled, and he reached for the tiny silver platters on the far end of the table.

He had just shoved the last of his first slice of cake into his mouth when a voice spoke up.

“Someone’s hungry.”

Jungkook swallowed, wiping his lips with the back of his hand. He whirled around, huffing. “Isn’t that the point of a banquet?”

The man in front of him was someone he didn’t recognize. A low-ranking noble, or perhaps, a foreigner?

He had exotic features— startling honey colored eyes staring at him through pitch-black curls, a chiselled jaw and sunken cheekbones, and warm, tan skin. A hand was shoved deep into his pockets, the other languidly holding onto a golden chalice embedded with emeralds and rubies. Noticeably, the color of the liquid swishing inside matched the red tint on his parted lips.

“I suppose you’re right,” He took another sip of his wine. “I haven’t seen you around before. You a first year?”

“Second year.” Jungkook corrected. Why was this man talking to him? The rest seemed to avoid him— he thought his horrid coat was a reliable repellent for the nobility, but it seemed not. “I just enrolled today.”

“That’s rare. I’m in second year, too.” The man downed the last of his wine, and alarmingly, went to fill it up again, reaching behind Jungkook for the drinks. He handed Jungkook a cup, and he clinked theirs together, smiling. “I’m Kim Taehyung, Earl of Geochang. What about you?”

Jungkook nearly spat out his drink.

Geochang? What was someone from the East Kingdom doing here?

To be fair, the Gyeongsang province had been a neutral force during the last territorial battle, the one that earned Hoseok his rank as the major general in the first place, but it still shocked Jungkook that someone from the neighbouring kingdom was studying all the way in the capital.

Jungkook looked away, staring at the crisp wallpaper of the hall, up at the glittering chandeliers, down at the carpeted floor stained with flecks of mud; anywhere but those piercing eyes. He seemed like a man who knew his power, and Jungkook dreaded to think how he’d act once he found out Jungkook was nothing but a peasant.

“I’m Jeon Jungkook.”

“Jeon?” The earl echoed. His words were slurred, his voice raspy from the wine. His throat was turning red— how much had he been drinking? “I’ve never heard that name before.”

Jungkook’s fingers twitched against the cup handle, and he set it down, hoping his voice sounded level. “Yeah, well, I don’t exactly look like a noble, do I?”

“Watching you scarf down that cake, I figured as much.”

Jungkook couldn’t tell if it was a jab at his lineage or just the ramblings of a drunkard, but either way, it irked him. He resisted the urge to glare at the earl. “Between you and I, a drink too plenty is far worse than an extra bite.”

“Oh?” Taehyung raised an eyebrow, his face darkening. “Why’s that?”

 _A challenging tone._ Jungkook’s heart rate picked up. 

Whoever this Taehyung was, they were in the same year. It wasn’t a good idea in the slightest to piss off a noble— and someone from the East, at that— if they were to spend most of their days studying together.

He took a step back. “Have a good night, Taehyung.”

Hurriedly, without waiting for a response, he slipped past a crowd of ladies who must’ve been eyeing the young earl, and stumbled into the balcony. He braced himself against the railing, the metal sending shocks of cold through his bare palms as he breathed in the cool night air.

He must be out of his mind. He hadn’t drank more than a sip from that damn delicious wine, yet he had already offended an earl. Hoseok had gone above and beyond to land him a spot in such an esteemed academy, but somehow, he was already fucking it all up.

He ran his fingers through his hair, leaning back against the railing and staring into the hall, bright and alive with young men and women chattering amongst themselves, the food barely touched, the wine steadily depleting as the night went on.

Socialising. Banquets were for _socialising_.

Jungkook cursed under his breath. Of course. No wonder that earl approached him. Dressed in drab clothing and wolfing down food without so much as a glance at anyone else— did he think Jungkook was a fool, or perhaps, maybe even a trespasser?

Lost in thought, he noticed a moment too late that whilst he was staring at what he thought was nothing, a pair of eyes were looking right back at him.

A man, surrounded by a circle of what seemed to be the best-dressed students of the academy, watched him with an odd expression, his head tilted ever so slightly. With his dress shirt barely visible underneath all the ruffles, massive pearls hanging from his earlobes, his skin pale and dusted with powder and hair bleached a pale blond, he looked like the angels that only existed in wall murals and stained glass windows.

A shock went through his system. Even he would recognize this man— Park Jimin, the crown prince.

Jungkook’s throat tightened. Why was he looking at him?

Out of nowhere, a ringing sound echoed throughout the hall, and he nearly jumped out of his skin. He clutched his heart, trying to calm himself down from the silly scare.

Twelve chimes. The midnight bell. How was it already this late?

When he looked back again, the prince was smiling at his friends, laughing and bidding each other farewell, almost as if he had never even glanced in Jungkook’s direction.

Jungkook shook his head, trying to clear his thoughts. He had already attracted too much unwanted attention, and lessons were yet to begin.

It seemed like his life at the academy wouldn’t be as uneventful as he had hoped it’d be.


	2. new beginnings

Jungkook stared at the piece of paper on his doorstep. It was a surreal feeling, looking down at a school schedule years after finishing his compulsory education. He never would’ve thought he’d willingly go to school ever again.

Hoseok had already briefed him on what type of lessons he should expect, and he’d already picked the two electives he wanted, but that didn’t mean he was all too pleased with the other stuff written on there. History? Why would he need to learn about wars from centuries ago? Language? Wasn’t it enough to understand what the people around him were saying? And of course, the most pointless one out of them all…

“Fuck would I need to learn economics for?” Jungkook grumbled under his breath, pulling the towel off of his damp hair and tossing it onto his bed. “What’s there to manage if we don’t even have money?”

He had just barely finished buttoning up his dress shirt and tucking them into his pants when there was a knock at his door, and for a moment, Jungkook was struck with the sudden fear that perhaps, the academy walls were a tad too thin to muffle his insults.

His hand lingered on the doorknob; fully expecting to see guards leering down at him.

Instead, a familiar, cheery voice called out his name.

“Jungkook? It’s me, wake up!”

He braced himself as the man fell into Jungkook’s arms the moment the door swung open, his walking stick clattering to the ground behind him, forgotten.

“Hobi!” He buried himself in the crook of his friend’s neck, missing the way their hugs always made him feel. He breathed in, the familiar warm scent of vanilla washing over him. “What’re you doing here?”

“I’m here to fetch you, obviously. Breakfast will get cold.” Hoseok pulled away, grinning up at him. “Come, we’re taking the long route together.”

Jungkook passed him his cane, and the two of them made their way out of the boys’ dormitories. He couldn’t help but take note of the limp in his step; the awkward way he swayed and leaned his weight a bit too much into his cane. Jungkook found himself instinctively extending a hand towards Hoseok when they reached the steps, to which he was instantly met with a wry smile.

“Oh, um,” Jungkook closed his fingers into a fist. “Sorry.”

“It’s okay, I know you mean well.” Hoseok said, a strained airiness to his voice. Slowly, with one hand against the columns and the other gripping the wooden knob atop his walking aid, he made his way down the small steps. When he finally stood on the stone path, he peered up at Jungkook expectantly. “Well? Hurry up!”

Jungkook bit the insides of his cheek, lagging behind Hoseok just in case he lost his balance. Even if his senior-turned-lecturer hated his pity, he felt as if his worries were justified.

“Are you sure you’re alright?” Jungkook said, careful glances at their surroundings to check for other students. They were alone save for a few ladies sitting by the giant fountain in the centre. Hoseok’s line of sight shifted pointedly to them, then shot him a warning look. Jungkook took the hint and leaned in closer, murmuring, “You look like you haven’t seen the sun in ages and you’re all skin and bones. If you’re still weak, I’m sure you can ask the headmaster to—”

Hoseok paused in his step, a hand raised between them, and Jungkook immediately clamped his mouth shut. The major general’s tone was icy. “I’m fine.”

“But—”

“Jungkook,” Hoseok turned to him with a smile that didn’t quite reach his eyes. “I’m not about to waste my youth rotting away in a bed. Being forced to go out of commission even though I’ve dedicated my whole life to being a knight, well, needless to say, I’d rather babysit these brats and get paid for it.”

Jungkook stole a glance at his leg. It was a miracle Hoseok could even walk, considering how bad of a shape he had been in weeks prior.

Of course he was bitter. He knew too well that he was the only one there who could even come close to understanding an inch of Hoseok’s frustration, and even then, he looked at Jungkook as if they were worlds apart.

Hoseok’s resentment for nobles was something they both accepted as fact, and if it ran deeper than Jungkook’s hatred, he did a damn good job hiding it. Hoseok must’ve went down a path of madness, quiet and alone. Having an audience with the king and subsequently having to attend various functions as a newly awarded war hero— there was only so much small talk a man could handle, after all.

“What was it like?” Jungkook asked, hoping to fill the uncomfortable silence. “Having to deal with the nobles, I mean. Do they treat you well, now that you’ve saved their sorry asses?”

“Careful with your words, Jeon Jungkook.” Hoseok snapped. Then, he caught himself, taking a moment to gather his thoughts before heaving a deep, sober sigh. “You ought to be more worried about yourself than me. I heard Jin had to step in for you yesterday, and I can’t guarantee it’d happen a second time. You know what I mean, right?”

“I can take care of myself, but what about you?” Jungkook clenched his jaw. “Surely, you’ve had your own suspicions. They’re taking advantage of your kindness, using your title and parading you like some kind of trophy. This school— they know what it means to have you working as an instructor here. I don’t want you to get hurt working so soon, and for people who don’t even see you as human!”

For a moment, Hoseok stared at him, and Jungkook wondered if he’d pay the price for saying too much with a good whack upside the head with his walking stick. Instead, Hoseok simply turned on his heels and continued walking, speaking briskly. “I’m in the company of someone who very much shares your sentiments. Rest assured, they’re as eager to watch over me as you are.”

Jungkook frowned, jogging to catch up to him. “Someone? Do I know them?”

“You’ll meet him soon enough.” Hoseok spared a smile to the students sitting at the fountain as they passed by, and Jungkook gave them a small, hurried nod, trying to ignore the way the giggled to themselves afterwards. They took a left turn, and headed up to the path leading up to the dining hall. “We had a little talk since we both teach hunting. Showed me the ropes— very pleasant and helpful guy, honestly.”

“I don’t think you’ve mentioned there being _two_ instructors for hunting class.” Jungkook searched his face nervously. “I’m still getting you, right?”

Jungkook thought it’d be rather ironic if he ended up not getting Hoseok after all the trouble Hoseok went through convincing him to enroll just so he’d have a familiar face around while teaching at the academy. The major general merely snorted.

“Don’t worry, we have separate units. He’s the archery teacher.” Hoseok waved a hand dismissively. “Oh, but I think you’ll get a good look at him in your music class. I’ve been told he’s a fine pianist.”

He hadn’t heard about an instructor teaching _two_ lessons before, but he supposed he never went to a prestigious academy either, so what did he know about how the system worked? And so, he just nodded and looked ahead.

Walking with Hoseok along the beautiful pathways running through the central garden felt surreal to Jungkook. It seemed like only yesterday they were kids, walking through the dirty local marketplace, hand-in-hand. Unlike the flies buzzing about and the loud hagglers of their hometown, the scene was coloured by flowers of many kinds, a gentle scent of sweetness filling the air. Though it was pretty, the sight of immaculately trimmed hedges unnerved Jungkook. Was it really necessary to have everything be so level and square?

When they reached the door, Hoseok stopped abruptly and patted him on the shoulders. “Well, I guess this is where I say goodbye. Make sure to eat well, Jungkook.”

“You’re not coming with?” Jungkook asked, confused.

“You really think they’ll let someone of my greatness eat with students?” Hoseok laughed, poking him in the chest. “Instructors have their own lounges, idiot. We’ll see each other in second period.”

“Wait!” Jungkook sputtered, but Hoseok had already hobbled away. “…Then why the fuck did you even walk me all the way here?”

He bit his lip, his hands curling around the glistening door handles nervously.

The hall seemed like a whole different world in comparison to the festive banquet he had seen last night. Rows and rows of tables were attached to one another, filling up the vast space. On both sides of the hall were food and drinks, and students milled about, heavy bags under their eyes, clearly miffed that nobody was there to serve them, judging from how harshly one of the ladies threw the ladle back into the serving of mashed potatoes.

Jungkook slid into an empty seat, his bowl of soup and bread seeming unimpressive compared to the lavish meals of the banquet he had devoured. This time around, nobody seemed to be paying him much attention. Granted, he wasn’t wearing his horrid coat anymore, and his dress shirt was fairly decent-looking. There was also the added bonus that everyone appeared too fatigued to care. He made a mental note to thank the marquess for reminding him not to drink too much before disappearing from sight.

Across the hall, however, somebody seemed to be particularly feeling the weight of last night’s shenanigans.

With his head down against the table, the surrounding students sending concerned glances at him; Kim Taehyung was unashamedly sleeping in spite of the growing chatter and the bright sunlight spilling from the massive, open windows. By his side, forgotten, was a loaf of bread with a chunk torn out from it.

Jungkook scowled as he bit into his own bread. Of course he’d be an eyesore. Nobody in their right minds would drink themselves into oblivion the night before the first day of school, yet he paraded around the dining hall like a buffoon, unaware that he was a nuisance to all, particularly to Jungkook.

 _If that were me, I’d be thrown out instantly,_ Jungkook thought to himself. How lucky was he, a foreigner at that, to be attending such a prestigious school and not have to care about sending one wrong glare and having his entire family thrown behind bars?

Shoving the last of his bread into his mouth, he placed his plates and cups into the trolley passing by. The cleaning maid gave him a grateful smile, and Jungkook couldn’t help but take notice of her cracked lips and puffy eyes. _How long had it taken for the staff to clean up after the grand banquet last night?_

Even though he already studied a map of the academy before going to bed, it was nothing compared to seeing the real thing. In spite of himself, the wide archways and large marble pillars still left him breathless— the size of such a massive building possibly rivalling the size of the grand church in the middle of the capital was dizzyingly incomprehensible to a smalltown boy like him.

Even the staircase felt foreign underneath his feet as he made his way up the second floor. There was no danger of rotting wood collapsing under his weight; no lingering musk of damp earth around him.

Embarrassingly enough, when he poked his head into the classroom labelled History, there was no one there yet. After double-checking his schedule and glancing around the room a bit more, Jungkook decided to take a gamble and sit somewhat to the side.

Whilst pulling out his books, he heard a voice say, “Hey, um, you’re in my seat.”

Jungkook jumped, his head immediately snapping up. His breath caught in his throat.

Dressed in a loose white shirt cinched around the waist with a thick black corset, with his signature silvery blonde hair, smooth pale skin, and cherry red lips, Jimin smiled down at him, his arms crossed.

_The crown prince._

When he regained his senses, Jungkook gathered his belongings as fast as he could, scooping them up into his arms and sending his seat clattering a good metre back. His voice sounded a pitch too high even to his own ears. “S-sorry, I’ll move.”

“Don’t worry about it,” Jimin let out a light laugh, patting the seat next to him. “You can sit next to me if you want— then you don’t have to go searching for an empty one. It’s filling up pretty quick.”

Jungkook swiftly moved to the desk beside him. “Are you sure no one’s sitting here? I don’t want to overstep my boundaries.” The prince had been very polite, but there was no telling any other person would treat him as well as he had. Jungkook had no intentions of risking his stay there after the unpleasantly close brush he had with it last night.

“Well, we haven’t seen him since last winter, so chances are, you’re safe.” Jimin chuckled. Jungkook blinked. The prince didn’t seem to find anything out of the ordinary in his words, serenely sorting through his papers and arranging them neatly into one corner of his desk. He rested his chin against his hand and smiled at Jungkook. “You’re not going to introduce yourself?”

Jungkook tried to ignore the chatters starting to arise around them as the classroom filled up with students. He cleared his throat. “I’m Jeon Jungkook.”

“I’m—”

“I know who you are.” Jungkook blurted.

 _Oh god._ Commoners didn’t have etiquette lessons, but even he knew it was extremely disrespectful to speak out of turn. He despised nobles, but he wasn’t dumb enough to put himself or his family on blast.

Jimin seemed stunned that he had been cut off, but the corners of his lips twitched. “I suppose that saves me the trouble of saying my own name for the umpteenth time this morning.”

“I can see why you’d get tired of it pretty quick,” Jungkook muttered. “Talking to so many people must be exhausting, having to smile and watch what you say around the clock.”

For a moment, Jimin simply stared at him, a child-like curiosity washing over his composed features. Then, he reached out; delicate fingers clasping around Jungkook’s wrist. “Oh, god, yes. You have no idea.” Jimin leaned in, lowering his voice to a whisper. “I had to deal with them all morning too. Sometimes I wish they’d just leave me alone.”

Jungkook recalled the itch of irritation he felt when talking to the Earl of Geochang. He shook his head ruefully. “Life would be so much more easier if people could tell when you want some peace and quiet.”

“Imagine!” Jimin laughed, baffled. “But, alas, sometimes, pretence is necessary to keep peace, won’t you agree?”

“I guess in that case, I’d have to.”

“Then, do you think I’m doing a good job playing nice?”

Jimin’s thumb traced the back of his hand, the light pressure against his veins sending odd chills up his arm. Jungkook stiffened. “You’re a charming guy, your highness.”

“Please, call me Jimin.”

Jungkook’s eyes met his. The name tasted foreign on his tongue. “…Jimin.”

“You know, I saw you at the banquet last night, too. ” Jimin tilted his head. “You came with Jin, right? Didn’t want to say hi?”

“You were surrounded by people.”

“I would’ve ignored everyone in the room if you came up to me,” Jimin said. “You weren’t scared of me, were you? I don’t bite.”

Jungkook had never felt so overwhelmed by a simple conversation before. He had no idea what he could say that didn’t make him sound like an idiot nor accidentally offend a member of the royal family.

He was sure Jimin could feel his pulse with how tight he was holding onto Jungkook’s wrist. Jimin’s gaze seemed different; less friendly and warm, more akin to a fae luring in their victim. Judging from his smirk, he knew fully well he had thrown Jungkook off his game.

Jungkook struggled to form a coherent sentence, rambling out, “I, uh— It’s not you, it’s me.”

Jimin let go of him, erupting into a fit of giggles and clutching onto his stomach. Jungkook didn’t see what was so amusing about what he had said, but Jimin was quick to tease him. “What’re you saying? Only couples use that sort of line, Jungkook.”

“Really?” Jungkook felt his ears warm up. _Great_. How was he supposed to know? He’d never had a lover before.

Jimin calmed down enough to wipe his tears away with his thumbs. “Well, I can’t help it if you don’t like me. Seems like I have to work for it if I want to be friends, hm?”

 _Friends_. With the prince.

Jungkook didn’t know how he felt about that. Jimin was certainly more pleasant than he expected, but mastering social skills was a necessity considering his bloodline. There had to be a reason why Jimin was oddly insistent on being friendly with him, and Jungkook suspected it mostly had to do with the desire to always appear polite.

The perfect prince. The model student everyone liked— even the lowly commoners.

Commoners like Jungkook.

His stomach tightened the more he mulled over Jimin’s words.

What do young aristocrats even do for fun? Play chess? Drink tea? That was certainly all Jungkook had ever heard they did.

“Should we eat lunch together?” Jungkook offered.

Jimin gave him an apologetic look. “Ah, you didn’t notice? I don’t eat in the hall with the other students.”

Right. Even if they were in a school packed with nobles, Jimin was still the highest in order of ranking. Of course he’d be served separately. Jungkook licked his lips. “I was distracted, you could say. Otherwise, I’m sure I would’ve picked up on your absence.”

“Distracted?” Jimin raised an eyebrow. “Was the food that good?”

“Oh, no. Wait, I mean, yes, it was definitely _far_ better than what I had in my hometown, but—”

The door slammed open. Jimin and Jungkook whirled around, startled.

In the doorway, a familiar tall figure rubbed the back of his neck, muttering a small, “Oops, wrong class.”

Kim Taehyung, still a bit dazed and hungover, turned around and promptly left, not the slightest bit bothered by the dozens of students’ attention trained on him, quizzical eyebrows arched his way. Jungkook scowled. _Causing a scene once more._ The Earl of Geochang sure knew how to attract attention in the worst ways possible, and seemed dedicated to spend every second of his day to do so.

“Him.” Jungkook sighed, turning back around. “I was distracted by him.”

The prince’s gaze lingered on the spot where Taehyung had been standing for a moment still, narrowed eyes and pursed lips creasing his features. He blinked, then he was looking back at Jungkook— his tone careful, unreadable. “Always a mess, isn’t he? Never seems to know what’s best for him.”

“I saw him drink away his own sanity last night. Doesn’t seem like the sort to think before they speak.”

“You’ve talked?”

“Only for a bit.”

The door creaked open once more, but this time around, it was a middle-aged woman, her greying hair tied up into a tight bun. The students rose, and Jungkook followed suit belatedly.

“Good morning,” The teacher said briskly. “Now, let’s skip the formalities, and start the lesson, shall we? Everyone in agreement?”

There was a chorus of _yes_ esand groans, but Jungkook— he couldn’t help but be aware of the burning of Jimin’s stare on his back as they settled back into their seats.

“Jungkook,”

He stole a glance at the teacher, then at the prince. “What is it?”

“Nothing, it’s just…” Jimin hesitated. Then, he plastered on his dazzling smile once again. “Do me a favour, and stay away from Kim Taehyung, okay?”

Jungkook frowned. Before he could ask anymore questions, Jimin had already looked off into the distance, an unsettled look on his face.


	3. imbalance

“I suck at archery, can you believe that?”

Jungkook glanced warily at the students as Jimin and him made their way through the corridor— every single one of them were side-eyeing them so shamelessly so, the hint of disgust and disbelief on their faces a filtered remnant of their true feelings; an ugliness only hidden in fear of being caught judging the crown prince.

He licked his lips, wondering if his walk looked as awkward as it felt to him. He wasn’t used to so many people watching his every move this intently. Were his curls too messy? Was there a tear in his shirt? Did he forget to button-up his already ill-fitting pants?

“You know, it’s not a common occurrence for people to blatantly ignore me. Most, at the very least, pretend to look interested.”

Jungkook’s gaze snapped back to the prince in alarm. “H-huh?”

Jimin seemed more amused than annoyed, the corners of his plump lips turning up at the edges. “No, I was just saying I’m rather incompetent with a bow and arrow, much to everyone’s surprise, but especially mine.”

“I’m more surprised you didn’t go for the sword,” Jungkook said. “Don’t royalty usually have a special sword art passed down through the generations or something like that? ”

Pausing before the stairs, Jimin gave him a look he couldn’t quite decipher. There was an oddly sombre mood around the prince— with the sunlight spilling through the large arched windows behind him, his features half-obscured by shadows… Jungkook wondered if he had misspoken.

“As everyone knows, my affinity with the blade is close to non-existent.” Jimin said, his fingers running up and down the railing of the stairs. “Taking up archery is the lesser of two evils.”

_Ridiculous._

It took him years to get to where he was now, and he knew for a fact it was due to his hard work and determination; forging through with a strong will despite the constant ridicule he got for devoting himself to a trade not at all similar to his bloodline’s. His time with a mentor was short, and even Hoseok agreed it’d be hard for them to grow their skills any further if they stayed in their little hometown.

Someone like Jimin, who had infinite resources, saying it was impossible? It left a bad taste in his mouth.

“Maybe you just need more training.” Jungkook simply said, though he couldn’t keep the bite out of his words.

If Jimin noticed the change in his tone, he didn’t show it. Instead, he turned his back onto Jungkook and continued their descent, saying, “I suppose that could be it. Time is, after all, a luxury I do not possess.”

Jungkook was so deep in thought wondering how he could possibly remind Jimin that he definitely had far less time— what with having to work in the fields and do odd jobs to keep a roof over their heads— in a manner so delicate, he wouldn’t even question whether it was an insult or not, that he failed to notice that Jimin was too close to the edges of a step.

Jimin let out a soft gasp, and then he was falling.

Jungkook’s body reacted before he could think, and he threw his hands out, catching Jimin right as he was about to take a tumble down the steps, and twisting him in his grip. Jimin collided into him and he felt himself stagger backwards; his back promptly hitting the wall.

“Th-thanks.” Jimin said breathlessly. Jungkook could feel the prince’s heart pounding where their chests met, every little gasps of breaths reminding Jungkook of how close they were. Jimin made no attempt to move, dropping his head against his shoulder in embarrassment. Heat spread where Jimin’s lips accidentally brushed against bare skin. Jungkook tried not to shudder.

“You’re a clumsy one, aren’t you?” His voice was stable, but there was a knot in Jungkook’s stomach that he couldn’t quite ignore; a lump in his throat. He couldn’t help but notice how slender Jimin’s waist felt in his arms— this was the high and mighty prince? Had he always been so small and fragile?

“So I’ve been told,” Jimin laughed softly, and Jungkook could almost see with his mind’s eye what Jimin’s smile looked like at that moment. “Add that to the neverending list of why I can never wield a weapon.”

“Are you okay?” Jungkook asked, too aware of the way people were gawking at them from the bottom of the stairs. He shifted, hoping he could at least hide the prince’s tomato red face from the curious crowd.

“I’m fine,” Jimin looked up. Silver strands were falling over his puffy eyes, and Jungkook wanted nothing more than to sweep them away from his face— but he didn’t. He’d like to think had more self-control than _that_ , and Jimin didn’t seem particularly bothered, either. “Thanks to you, Jungkook.”

“Don’t worry about it.”

It was a peculiar feeling, receiving such a genuine sounding compliment from someone of a rank as high as Jimin’s. Jungkook shifted uncomfortably, and this time, Jimin noticed it. Immediately, the prince flushed an even brighter red, and pressed his palms flat against Jungkook’s chest, pushing himself off of him. “Oh, sorry! I should’ve realised—”

“It’s okay, really.” Jungkook licked his dry lips, and averted his eyes. “You’re much too light anyway. You should eat more, your highness.”

Jimin huffed, following him down the stairs. “I thought I told you to call me Jimin.”

“I think it’d do us both well to not forget our difference in ranks.” Jungkook’s eyes flickered to the people watching them curiously as they walked through the main hallway. What were they whispering about behind those comically large feather fans and perfectly manicured nails? Were they insulting him? Exchanging tall tales accusing him of trying to get close to the prince?

As if he dared. Jungkook hadn’t lost his marbles just yet.

“Why does my rank matter?” Jimin’s expression soured. He wrenched the heavy wooden doors that led to the back of the academic block open with more strength than Jungkook thought he possessed. “I’m not like the other nobles.”

“How do I know that for a fact?”

“Well, for starters,” The prince’s blank eyes were unnerving, yet he couldn’t look away. “I’m here, talking to you.”

“That doesn’t mean anything,” Jungkook countered. “I don’t know why you’re talking to me, nor what you actually want.”

“What?” Jimin scoffed. “You want to know what I want?”

“I think that’s what I said, yes.”

“I want you.”

Jungkook blinked. The prince paused at the crossroad that separated the archery range and the training area, and Jungkook found himself stopping in front of him, uncertain. He waited for Jimin to say it was just a joke; to laugh it off and give him that odd smile once more, but he was only met with silence. And so, he eloquently said; “…Huh?”

“I want to be friends with you!” Jimin said, rolling his eyes. “Hobi told us a lot about you, so I wanted to see what you were like myself. Is it so wrong for me to try to approach you?”

Confusion swirled in Jungkook’s mind. Hoseok was talking to Jimin about him? The prince wanted to be actual friends? His curiosity got the better of him, and he asked, “What did he say?”

“That you were a muscle-headed pig with a big heart.” Jimin shrugged. “There was more, obviously, but I can definitely tell that you’re…”

Jimin’s eyes trailed down, and Jungkook wished he had more lace and ruffles on his dressshirt. He felt incredibly exposed under the prince’s piercing stare, despite being fully-clothed. The spot where Jimin touched his chest, which had felt so insignificant just moments prior, burned. He could almost imagine the prince feeling his heart thrumming underneath his fingertips; almost imagine the way he would give him a lazy smirk…

“Well-built.” Jimin finished.

“For a prince, you sure lack subtlety.” Jungkook wanted to do nothing more than to just run away and hide. The students that wove around them were watching his reaction; analysing his every move and obsessively looking to find a fault— any reason to remove scum like him from their crowd. “But I would appreciate it if you refrain from complimenting me so openly. Sometimes, it’s better to keep certain things to ourselves.”

“That’s funny,” Jimin said, ducking so he could meet Jungkook’s downcast eyes. There was not a hint of humor in his voice. “I thought people liked it when I’m honest.”

The sun was shining so hot above them, so why was Jungkook drenched in cold sweat? Even the winds that rustled the leaves of the trees across the fields seemed to have stopped.

“ _I’d_ like to not have a giant target painted on my back this early on, your highness. I’m sure you have enough intellect to understand what I mean—”

“Jimin.” The prince said. “Call me by my name, and my name alone.”

“Well, Jimin,” Jungkook turned to the left, and started walking down the path to the training area, where more than a dozen students had gathered, and in the centre of them all was a familiar figure already waving at him. “Time is running, even if we’d rather it not. We’ll talk more when we meet again.”

“And when’s that?” Jimin called out.

Jungkook spared him a glance, and a sideways grin. “Only time will tell.”

He broke into a jog, and silently slipped amongst the crowd of students listening to Hoseok’s introduction— something Jungkook doubted anyone needed. Everyone already knew of him; the only commoner they’d begrudgingly respect due to his sheer strength in combat and leadership; the famed Hope of Jeolla. Not one of them asked why they weren’t sitting down in the shade of the outdoor classroom already set up beside the circular arena; instead, they hung onto Hoseok’s every word.

All, except one.

Jungkook glanced to his side. Kim Taehyung leaned against the pillars of the seating area, his scabbard on the ground beside him rather than attached to his side like everyone else’s. His brooding expression alone was enough to cause fear to radiate amongst those who had the misfortune of standing too close to him.

 _Why was he even there?_ Jungkook clenched his jaws. What was the point of being a bother to everyone if he didn’t care enough to put in any effort?

Hoseok’s cheery voice snapped him out of his thoughts.

“Of course, since you all received basic training last year, I trust I won’t need to teach you the easy stuff, right?” Hoseok beamed at them. “How about we start with a sparring session so I can get a grasp of everyone’s strengths and weaknesses?”

“Sir, will you not be demonstrating for us?” Someone piped up. The rest of the class nodded enthusiastically.

Hoseok merely laughed, tapping his walking stick against the ground. “Seems like I accidentally grabbed something else on my way out by accident, hm? This old twig doesn’t look like my sword at all!”

The class chuckled along in good humor, and even though Jungkook was furious someone lacked enough tact to ask a veteran who clearly hadn’t recovered yet to demonstrate something so physically taxing, Hoseok appeared to have anticipated such a question.

“Fear not, I have a better idea!” Hoseok said, clapping his hands together. “You’ll get to see my skills in action today, just not in the way you’d expect.”

Jungkook had a bad feeling about his smile. He took a step back.

“Who would’ve thought we’d be so lucky to have someone who trained under the same master as I walking amongst you today!”

Suddenly, the sword against Jungkook’s side felt heavier. The students were glancing curiously at one another, accusatory glares thrown here and there.

“Jung Hoseok’s master? I thought he didn’t train under a noble.”

“Right, but there couldn’t possibly be—”

“I’ve never heard of—”

“Jeon Jungkook,” Hoseok said, throwing his arms open wide. “Come up here for a sparring demonstration, will you? For old times' sake?”

Suddenly, all eyes were on him. Jungkook’s eyes widened at the sudden attention, and he froze. He couldn’t back down now, not with Hoseok watching him with that smug grin of his.

_Was this a chance for him to prove himself?  
_

“Alright,” Jungkook said, walking up to the centre. “Who will be my opponent?”

“Don’t look at me like that, it certainly won’t be me!” Hoseok clapped him on the back so hard, Jungkook nearly lost his footing. “What fun is it seeing the same styles clash, eh?”

Dread filled Jungkook, but he nodded obediently. “I-I suppose.”

“I heard there was a boy from the East Kingdom here,” Hoseok hummed. “Taehyung, was it? If he could come join us at the front?”

Jungkook could feel the tension in the air rise. The nervous air amongst the young lords was infectious— Jungkook could barely hold in a shudder when the crowd parted silently, and a tall, dark figure walked through them.

The Earl of Geochang.

He stood beside Hoseok, a looming figure over them despite Jungkook guessing that they were about the same height. His eyes were just as Jungkook remembered— a startling shade of clear honey that seemed to show everything yet nothing, all at once. His dark clothes and puffed-up sleeves accentuated his broad shoulders, and his slender fingers traced the gems decorating the dirt-caked hilt of his sword. Jungkook wondered if he even had half the willpower _he_ had to train under the sword if he had so casually tossed it onto the dirty earth. 

“Now, we can retreat to the seats and clear some space for these two young men,” Hoseok winked at Jungkook, and waved the other students off to the raised seats encircling half the arena. “Remember, this is just a demonstration to raise morale, so don’t go beheading each other, or I’ll personally come and snap your sword in half, haha.”

Jungkook nodded warily, and when his sight shifted back to his opponent, he was suddenly seized with the realisation that he was about to raise his sword against a noble for the first time in his life.

“We meet again,” Taehyung said, his voice deep and silky. “I was wondering when I’d get to see your face after last night.”

“Was I that memorable to you?” Jungkook said, his throat tightening up. “We had one conversation, that is all.”

“Who could forget someone like you?”

Jungkook hated the way his heart betrayed him by skipping a beat. He unsheathed his sword. “W-what nonsense are you saying? You were pissed drunk. There’s no way you remember our meeting.”

Taehyung let out a little scoff, ducking his head as he leaned his weight against his sword. His curls fell limply into his face. “I won’t forget someone who talks so big with nothing to prove it for.”

Jungkook felt a sting in his chest, and without thinking, he swung his sword. “You—!”

_Clang!_

In one swift movement, Taehyung was pressing his blade against his and purring into his ear, his mocking tone reverberating through Jungkook. “Careful there, these toys are sharp.”

Jungkook stumbled backwards, his heart pounding. _When did he—?_

Never underestimate your enemy, Hoseok always told him. In a moment of rage, Jungkook had thrown all logic out of the window. He bit down into his bottom lip, steadying himself again.

Taehyung struck, and Jungkook grunted as he parried, ducking down and attempting to weasel through the earl’s blind spot, but Taehyung easily blocked him.

“I guess cheap tricks won’t work on you.” Jungkook spat, bringing his sword down swiftly.

Taehyung’s cocky smile was infuriating. He twisted his sword in a way Jungkook had never seen before, swinging it in a large arc before moving to strike.

_A feign? Or was it a direct attack to confuse him?_

Jungkook had no time to think. The blade was nearing him, and he’d be sliced in half if he didn’t move.

Just when Taehyung had gained full momentum, he rolled out from under his arm right as he saw Taehyung’s attack change mid-swing, and scurried upright. He gasped for air— this fight was going on longer than he had anticipated, and he had already exerted too much energy trying to dodge Taehyung’s attacks.

Hoseok was right; their styles did not match at all, and it only served to anger Jungkook more.

Jungkook felt something hot drip down the side of his face. So Taehyung _had_ managed to graze him.

“You’re playing dirty!” Jungkook growled. “Two feigns isn’t fair!”

“Do you think war is fair, Jungkook? This is a sparring demonstration, and I’m not your training dummy.” Taehyung wiped the dirt off of his chin against his shoulders. “Your hero— Jung Hoseok knows this too. He’s clashed swords with many others, spilled blood on the battlefield and suffered his own losses. Use your head and tell me; will the enemy teach you their tricks before fighting to the death?”

Jungkook growled, his grip around his sword tightening, and he charged. “What do you know? You’re a spoilt brat who’s never been in a real fight!”

There was a mad, triumphant glint in the earl’s eyes. “Neither have you, it seems!”

Too late, he realised he had fallen into Taehyung’s trap. The earl twisted their swords together, and as he was disarmed, he began to tip over backwards. In his desperation to stop his fall, he hooked his feet around Taehyung’s ankle, and they crumpled to the ground.

Jungkook slowly peeled an eye open. He could feel the cold concrete under his back, and warm breaths tickling his neck. The earl was barely holding himself up over him, their legs a tangled mess, his arms shaking as he gripped his sword, the point of which was firmly lodged right beside Jungkook’s head. A lock of his hair was trapped beneath it.

“Fool,” Taehyung hissed. “I could’ve accidentally impaled you! What were you thinking?”

“Shut up, just get off of me,” Jungkook mumbled, shifting his head away. He ran his hands through his hair, feeling the spot where an inch of his hair had been cut off. “Move already, bastard.”

He pushed his forearm against the earl, but he didn’t budge. Instead, the earl was watching him with an odd expression. To Jungkook’s alarm, his lips stretched into a smirk. His left hand slid from the handle of his sword and he tapped Jungkook’s bottom lip with his knuckles. “Stop pouting. You’re a sore loser, huh?”

“Ugh! You just wait, I’ll defeat you! I was just— just careless, that’s all!” Taehyung ignored his ramblings and lifted himself up, and offered him a hand. Jungkook glared at him, smacking his hand away. “I don’t need your help. Now everyone’s going to think Hobi’s master is useless. You made me a laughing stock!”

Taehyung rolled his eyes. “Did you perhaps think that he did this for your sake?”

“...I didn’t think you’d be a day-drinker, but it seems one cannot judge a book by its cover.”

Somehow, Taehyung had gotten close without him realising it. Jungkook flinched, feeling the heat of his palms against the wound on his face. They were rough and calloused, much like Jungkook’s. “Think of this as a lesson. Don’t let your ego be the death of you.”

_This infuriating little—_

“Okay, wrap it up, you two!” Hobi stepped in between them and turned to the other students who were all staring at them with their mouths agape. “The rest of you can pair up and start sparring, and the two of you can go catch a breather in the shade.”

“Good match.” Taehyung let go of him and gave him a pat on the shoulder before retreating back to the seating area. Jungkook shot his back a nasty look.

Hoseok chuckled. “Thanks for putting on a good show, it really reminded me of my time in the military. We’d stay up til’ dawn just to play around even though we knew we had training the morning after—”

“You’re not mad at me for losing?”

“...That’s a silly question. Each failure will only make you grow more as a person.” Hoseok poked him in the shins with his walking cane. “Though on the battlefield, you’ll only get so many chances. But that’s life for you, kid.”

Jungkook fiddled with his thumbs. “I’m sorry I lost my cool. I’ll do better next time, I swear.”

“You swear?” Hoseok’s eyes crinkled at the corners. “Well, I suppose it’s nice to have motivation, but you should know your limit, too. Go take a break, I’ll watch over the other kids now. I’m sure they’re gonna need a lot more supervision than you two.”

Jungkook nodded, and watched as Hoseok hobbled away, craning his head as he observed the young lords clumsily wield their swords. He might as well sit on the sidelines and watch the others, too.

As he passed by, he heard a pair talking in hushed voices, barely moving their swords in order to talk over the sounds of their peers’ weapons clashing. “You think he did that on purpose?”

“What do you mean? You talking about Instructor Hoseok?”

Jungkook perked up, and he hoped he wasn’t walking slowly enough to arouse suspicion.

“I mean, he’s just setting up the new kid for failure,” One of them snorted. “I thought he was pretty decent. Think he was trying to teach him a lesson?”

“Still, isn’t it too harsh? Picking Kim Taehyung out of all people...”

Jungkook stilled. _What?_ What did they mean by that?

The other kid laughed, his sword glinting as it caught the light of the morning sun.

“I mean, you’d be crazy to go against someone from the warrior clan.”


	4. cogwheel

_Ring! Ring! Ring!_

Jungkook’s eyes snapped open. In his rush to stand up, his hand slid against the soapy tiles, and within the second, he was fully submerged. In a flurry of underwater bubbles, he splashed around, desperately trying to find his footing. His chest tightened; he curled in on himself, and spun around, kicking his feet against the bottom of the baths as hard as he could.

The moment he broke through the surface, he gasped, blinking rapidly as he wiped the water away from his eyes. He pushed his wet curls away from his face, groaning. Jungkook grabbed the edges of the bath and hauled himself up, his heart still pounding from the rush of adrenaline.

The midnight bell had sounded— Jungkook had gone an hour past curfew. He sighed, quickly grabbing his towel and wiping himself down.

_What kind of idiot would fall asleep in the baths at this hour?_

Jungkook. Jungkook was that sort of fool.

But who could blame him, really? He sent a longing glance at the clear waters that still hadn't settled down. The heat of clean water against his bare skin after a whole evening of practice— if Jungkook believed in the afterlife, he’d compare it to heaven itself. Warm water was a luxury they only had during the harshest days of winter back at home, and it seemed he had started taking it for granted after merely two nights at the academy.

He missed home, but…

He smiled to himself. His mom was probably enjoying having all the extra firewood to herself. She deserved it. For too many years, her two sons had weighed her down— when was the last time she did anything for herself?

“I need to write her soon,” Jungkook reminded himself, his fingers working on buttoning up his shirt. He could probably afford sending mail every once in a while with the weekly allowance Hoseok gave him. And maybe, one day, he’d make enough money on his own, and _he_ could be the one giving out allowances to his mother and senior instead. “When I enlist, I’ll definitely…”

Jungkook shook his head. No, it was still too early to think that far ahead. He couldn’t even beat that damned Kim Taehyung, and yet, he had the nerve to fantasize about a good paycheck?

Jungkook shrugged on his coat and snuck a peek out into the hallway. In the cold night air, the particularly heavy scent of flowers drew him closer and closer to the edge of the corridor, and he slipped inside the main academic block, his feet taking him towards the alluring smell. In the dark, he could make out the immaculately-trimmed hedges of the rectangular garden in the centre of the academy.

The fountain had already been turned off, he noted as he ran his fingers over the cold stone edges. The night was abnormally quiet compared to the constant chattering of the students during daytime. He knew he shouldn’t be here— curfew had long started since eleven, yet he spun on the tip of his toes, breathing in deeply. His first few days at the academy had been nothing short of stressful, what with the prince and his odd insistence of being friends, and having to put up with that barbarian of an earl. The added attention from the other students only served to increase his paranoia. It felt good to just fade into the calm embrace of nature; to forget about the cage he had trapped himself in.

He was lost in the moment, and that moment costed him his senses— a hand shot out of nowhere, and caught his wrist.

Jungkook whirled around, his entire body tensing up as his instincts screamed at him to prepare for a fight. Whoever this was, they were strong; far stronger than Jungkook.

“Jungkook?”

He blinked. He could make out the person’s sharp features and strong gaze as his vision adjusted to the dark. “Marquess Seokjin? What are you doing here?”

“When we’re alone, just call me Jin.” The marquess’ tone was light, yet his grip tightened. “Also, I should be asking you that very same question. It’s well past your bedtime, young man.”

“I-I was just taking a stroll.”

“At this time of night? I nearly mistook you for an intruder,” Jin grunted, letting go of him. “It’s dangerous. You shouldn’t be playing in the dark. Who knows what would’ve happened if I didn’t notice it was you?”

“Why are you so on edge?” Jungkook scanned the area. The garden was empty save for them, and the only lights still on were the ones spilling from the teachers’ lounge. Nothing seemed out of the ordinary. “Isn’t the security at the academy supposed to be great? What’s there to worry about?”

“True, the security here is second only to the Royal Palace,” Jin pursed his lips, his tone somewhat miffed. “But with the crown prince residing on campus, you can never be too careful.”

Jungkook nodded. Jimin’s protection was deemed of such high priority that the prince dined and slept separately from the rest of the students. Nobody knew where his private room was, but Jungkook knew it certainly existed— he had heard whispers about it around school.

“Patrols roam the halls often, so why even bother doing it yourself?”

As he posed this question, he noticed an odd detail he failed to pick up on earlier. The marquess’ clothes were neatly pressed, and not a single hair was out of place. He even appeared to be wearing some sort of perfume; a scent that could have blended in with the rest of the flowers if they weren’t standing so close together.

Then, it clicked in Jungkook’s mind. “You’re meeting someone.”

In the moonlight, Jin seemed like a vampire, what with his pale skin and inky black hair. The marquess was undeniably a man of beauty; coupled with his peculiar intellect, he could easily get whoever he wanted in the kingdom. What sort of person had won the interest of a man of his caliber?

There was a sinking feeling in Jungkook’s stomach when he was met only with silence. He shifted awkwardly. “Don’t tell me it’s a student—”

“I’d never!” Jin gasped, appalled. “The thought of seeing anyone that hasn’t come of age— man or woman, it makes me ill.”

“I just thought, since it’s in the dark and you’re meeting in the middle of the academy—” Jungkook paled and bowed. “I didn’t mean to offend, I just heard some stories and rushed to conclusions. My apologies.”

“No, no, it’s understandable. I’ve heard rumors myself. It’s commonplace in other academies, I suppose.” Jin massaged the space between his brows, sighing. “Well, if you must know, I am meeting someone tonight. You were right about that part.”

_A lover?_

“Is it perhaps too much if I asked with who?” Jungkook tried to hide his grin. Maybe it was due to the late hour, but Jin was less composed than usual, though he supposed he _did_ just accuse the marquess of sleeping with one of his own students.

Jin shook his head. "It’s rather useless to hide it. I’m greeting the new philosophy teacher, you’re bound to meet him sooner or later if you’re taking his elective.”

“Arriving at this time of night? That’s odd.” Jungkook stared out into the distance where Jin was facing. He could hear the clopping of approaching hooves now. “I recall having a philosophy lesson on Wednesday. You’d think a man that wise would plan their schedule well so as to not arrive two nights before his first class.”

“Well, this man is not your ordinary genius,” Jin chuckled. “Though I’ve been told he’s rather absent-minded, his tardiness is no fault of his own. I’m grateful he could even come at such short notice. After all, being asked to replace someone so suddenly must be rather daunting.”

“If he’s a replacement,” Jungkook glanced at Jin. “What happened to the previous teacher?”

The marquess was silent for one count, then he smiled. “Some things are simply out of our control, Jungkook.”

“Ah, am I right to assume he resigned?”

“Close,” Jin’s eyes shifted to the entrance, where the gates were starting to creak open. “It’s easier to say he disappeared.”

"Disappeared—?"

Jin straightened up. "He's here!"

The carriage came into view. Jungkook’s mouth dried up. Upon the pristine white coat of paint, the carriage bore the crest of the royal family. Whoever the person inside was, someone of royal blood had sent a carriage for him. Jungkook couldn’t imagine how luxurious the trip must’ve been. He had ridden the carriage Hoseok had kindly sent, but even then, his back still became sore and his body ached.

“It’s best if you leave,” Jin said quietly. “We arranged to meet in private. You’ve seen and heard more than you should’ve tonight. I hope you understand that whatever we talked about, you must not speak of to anyone else.”

Jungkook was seized with the temptation to snort and say he had no one to share his stories with anyway, but Jin sounded serious, so he nodded slowly. “Yes, I’ll be off. Have a good night, Jin.”

Jin nodded. “You too.”

Before he turned the corner, he stole a glimpse over his shoulder at the newcomer. Climbing off of the carriage was a man dressed in a beige suit; his blond hair neatly slicked back; his honey skin a gorgeous contrast to the stark bleached tone of his locks. In the dim light of the lanterns hanging from the carriage, Jungkook saw something gold glint off of his chest. A necklace? Or perhaps it was the slide of his bolo tie?

He turned. He shouldn’t stay long, anyway. What good would these observations even do?

As he was walking past the boy’s lounge room, he froze.

_Footsteps._

Had the guards already started patrolling? Clenching his jaw, he rushed forwards and grasped the railing of the stairs in front of him and pulled himself up. He flattened himself to the sides of the landing, shutting his eyes tightly and praying they’d pass by and check all of the first floor first instead of going to the second.

He held his breath. Would it be safer if he waited for them to finish up their rounds out at the rooftop instead?

Jungkook poked his head out into the second floor. Everyone seemed to be asleep. The lights were all off, and not a single peep could be heard from any room. He steeled himself, and climbed the last set of stairs.

When the door creaked open, he was greeted with a gust of freezing cold air. He twisted the handle— the door definitely locked from the inside. He left the door slightly ajar, hoping he wouldn’t accidentally lock himself out. He could see the three other doors that led to different staircases around the dorm, and there was a high possibility that at least one of them wasn’t locked, but he didn’t dare take any chances.

Jungkook gripped the cold metal of the rusted railings. From here, he could see the entire block through the white mists of his own breath, and the looming towers that lined the front of the academy.

He threw his head back and looked up at the heavens.

The usually inky black sky was filled with swirling shades of azure blue and deep purple, and sparkling diamonds were scattered all across the rich-colored canvas. Jungkook let out a little gasp at the magnificent sight. It had been ages since he last saw a sky so brilliant— he had a vague memory tucked away in the depths of his thoughts; a reminder of all the times he and his brother chased after such a view in hopes of painting the fleeting beauty of a starry night sky.

“Wish I had my painting set with me right now.”

He jumped, startled by the voice. He tore his gaze away from the glittering skies, and found himself staring back into the same exact scene, reflected so perfectly in the warm brown of Kim Taehyung’s eyes.

“Don’t you think so, too?” The earl smiled at him. “To immortalise this scene forever; add a touch of your own colours onto something that could never be just yours?”

“It’s nice to know you have an interest in painting despite your rather selfish reasoning, but,” Jungkook sighed. “Why are you here?”

Taehyung leaned his back against the railing. He tilted his head, a sideways grin directed at Jungkook. “Maybe I was drawn to you?”

Jungkook rolled his eyes, but he could feel warmth blossoming from the apples of his cheeks. _It was the cold,_ he told himself. Like how the tips of their noses were reddening, his cheeks were, too. Yes, that was it. “I’m not in the mood to deal with your nonsense. Did you really follow me here?”

“You’re not as quiet of a sneaker as you’d like to believe, Jungkook.” Taehyung said, an amused look on his face. “But to tell you the truth, I’m here to get some fresh air, that’s all.”

“That’s it? Then why even sneak up on me?”

“You can believe whatever you like,” Taehyung hummed. “But, I always come to the rooftop ever since I started studying here. If anything, you’re the one who shouldn’t get to claim ownership of this place.”

Their eyes met. Jungkook didn’t look away. There was an odd seriousness in them; a sombre mood he had never gotten from the earl despite the many times he had the misfortune of interacting with him.

“And…” He lifted a hand, the emerald gems on his rings catching the pale moonlight shining overhead. His touch felt warm against Jungkook’s face. “I came to apologise.”

Jungkook jerked away, scowling. “What for? Don’t tell me you’re feeling sorry _now_.”

“The cut doesn’t look deep, but seems like it’ll be there for a few days,” Taehyung’s hand, hanging in midair where Jungkook had been, closed into a fist. It fell limply to his side. “You were right. I made you look bad in front of your favourite instructor. I should’ve held back.”

_…held back?_

The ugly anger was starting to consume him from within once more. “You won fair and square. I can’t be proud even if I won if you chose not to take me on seriously.”

“But—”

“Keep your sympathy, Kim Taehyung.” Jungkook snapped. “You wouldn’t understand. I had to work hard to be where I am today. Knowing someone like you could beat me, just because you’re from a warrior clan? In the end, if the reason you’re good is all due to your lineage, I can, and _will_ surpass you.”

Too late, Jungkook realised Taehyung had been silent while he declared his thoughts out loud.

The earl’s eyes were narrowed and full of fury, much more than he had ever expected the lousy slacker was capable of. Jungkook recoiled, taking a step backwards before he could think.

“... _What_?”

The laugh that spilled from the earl’s wine-stained lips sent a chill down Jungkook’s spine.

“Someone like me? Hard work?” Taehyung sneered. He was walking closer and closer. “You think I got here because of my fucking bloodline? That’s a nasty joke, Jeon Jungkook.”

“You have the blood of warriors in you! You’re noble, but me?” His back hit the wall behind him. He swallowed harshly. “I’m nothing but a peasant. You’re privileged, no matter how much you deny it.”

Taehyung slammed his hand against the wall. Jungkook stared right at him, unflinching.

“You know nothing,” Taehyung spat, his breathing ragged. “I had to train day and night to be recognized as their son. Even now, in their eyes, I’m nothing but vermin. No matter how hard I try, no matter how much sleep I lose or blood I spill, I’ll never be worthy of their attention; never be truly part of the Kim clan. _Nothing_ I do matters. Don’t compare us.”

“So? You never had to go through the hell _I_ went through. I grew up being the poorest among poor. To hear you complain about your easy life…” Jungkook scoffed.“Get away from me, you fucking monster.”

In a split second, Taehyung’s hands lashed out, and seized him by the collar of his coat. Jungkook grunted at the sheer force of his enemy’s grip; his feet were hanging a few inches from the ground, and he was struggling to breathe properly. He glared at the earl, but the earl’s stare was just as piercing.

“If I’m a monster,” Taehyung snarled. “What are you?”

“I hope you’re not joking right now, my lord, because that wasn’t very funny.”

“Listen to yourself,” Taehyung inched closer. His breath ghosted Jungkook’s exposed neck. There was a faint scent of grape all around him; dizzying and intoxicating. “You think I asked to be born as Kim Taehyung? You think I wanted this life? You condemn and hate every single person here just because they were born into nobility. How does that make you any better?”

Jungkook scowled. “I have it worse than you lot.”

The look on the earl’s face—was it sadness? Anger? Disappointment?

Taehyung loosened his grip, and Jungkook coughed, clutching his knee and gulping in as much air as he could.

“Perhaps compared to the rest, yes; but you and I, we have a lot more in common than either of us would like to admit.” Taehyung backed away, and made his way towards the door. “Think of me however you’d like, but don’t you dare accuse me of not trying.”

“Says the student who always sleeps in class and gets drunk any chance they can.” Jungkook said bitterly, pushing himself off of the wall and facing the earl. “Why even come all the way here if you’re not going to take anything seriously?”

“You think I _wanted_ to come here?” Taehyung’s hand curled around the handle. His expression was pained; his smile was bittersweet. “Unfortunately, some of us don’t have the luxury to choose, Jeon Jungkook.”

Even with his cryptic wording and thinly-concealed hatred, he still left the door open behind him. Jungkook just barely stopped short of driving his fist into it. He let out a low growl of frustration as he slid to the floor.

_What was he even talking about?_

Despite telling himself that everything Taehyung had said was pure nonsense aimed to get to him, his grin fell when he stared at his shaking palms. He let out a little, baffled laugh.

“Fucking insane, that’s what he is.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> updates has been slowing down because of assignments and stuff :(( I honestly debated whether or not I should put this on hold like I did with my other story back then, but I love this story so much and I can't imagine stopping right now when I'm having so much fun writing it,, I hope u guys can bear with me :))


	5. ivory blade

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> sorry this is really late,, but on a better note I had fun writing this chapter :))

Jungkook’s quivering fingertips grazed the piano keys, his movements slow; tentative.

How many years had passed since then? He remembered how big a piano had seemed—draped in pure white cloth, surrounded by countless of polished pews in that tiny prayer hall. He remembered the childish fascination he had with that particular room back then, just staring as kaleidoscopic colours danced across the polished floors, and fragrant peonies swayed by the windowsill.

If only his memories had stayed so sweet.

Not long after, the beautiful sounds and the adrenaline from sneaking in were replaced with the heat of a stare, and soon, the burn of leather against his palms; the metallic taste filling up his mouth as he tried his damn best to hold back his screams.

 _Too young._ He was too young and foolish back then.

Jungkook halted for a moment, trying to ground himself to the present— the air that smelt like the fresh grass of the fields outside, the warmth of the sun that spilled through the cream-colored curtains and onto the marble floors. He was here, at the academy. He shouldn’t forget that.

He almost couldn’t bring himself to sit down, but his knees were weak, and when he did lower himself onto the leather cushion, he nearly collapsed.

Swallowing harshly, he pressed down— the sound was rich and melodious, unlike any sound he had ever heard from the priests from his hometown.

He chuckled quietly to himself. Of course. Only the finest of instruments would be sent here, where the children of the elite could show off their years of practice in front of peasants like him. He’d seen it before, after all. The mocking jeers, the glint of contempt in their beady little eyes as he was dragged away and thrown onto the cracked soil outside of the church.

Did he cry back then? Had it been so long that he couldn’t remember anything but the thick metallic scent of the blood that soiled his one white shirt?

_“Get your filthy hands off of the piano!”_

Fingers dug into his shoulders, and the piano screeched a wretched note.

Jungkook jerked away from the instrument and shut his eyes tightly, his left hand curling up into his dress shirt. He drew a withering breath; his chest was starting to hurt again; the phantom burn starting to ghost his palms once more. “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to—”

“Jungkook?”

He looked up, gulping in air. “Jimin?”

“Are you okay?” When had Jimin’s hand travelled to his back? His open palm felt warm, yet his touch was heavy. "Sorry for scaring you, I thought you heard me when I came in.”

“I’ll get up!” Jungkook snapped from his shock, clambering upright. He swiped the back of his hands across his face; his tongue refusing to cooperate as he fumbled over his words. “I’ll leave. I shouldn’t have snuck in here, please don’t tell anyone!”

“What? What’s wrong?” Jimin’s hand stilled, holding him down onto the seat with more ease than Jungkook expected. His voice softened, though his struggle to hide the panic and confusion in them grew even more evident as he leaned in closer. “Jungkook, it’s okay, take a deep breath. You’re a student; you have classes here, you didn’t sneak in.”

“You—you won’t report me?”

“Of course I won’t,” The concern on his face had steadily increased to match his stricken tone. “We’re friends. If anything, I wished you hadn’t stopped playing.”

Jungkook met Jimin’s eyes— his gaze was soft, expectant; patiently waiting for him to speak. He looked away. Somehow, this unexpected gentleness intimidated him even more than the boorish foolishness of the other nobles. It looked too real, and somehow, it made every inch of his body scream for him to get away; to hide every last shameful bit of himself from his prying sight.

“Am I allowed to?”

“Allowed to?” The prince raised an eyebrow. “Of course. Yoongi isn’t here yet.”

Jungkook gripped his wrist tightly, biting his lip. Jimin didn’t seem the slightest bit bothered by the awkward silence that hung in the air. Rather, he reached out, his thumb swiping away at Jungkook’s cheeks. Jungkook’s breath caught in his throat, but he managed to say, “Sorry you had to see me like this.”

“It’s okay,” Jimin said, tilting his head to the side. “It doesn’t make me think less of you.”

“That’s…Thank you.”

“So, will you play again?” Jungkook blinked owlishly, wondering if it was a joke, but Jimin simply smiled at him. “Have you calmed down now?”

“I suppose so, yes. But,” He bit his lip. “I’m certain you’re a better player than me. Someone from the royal family couldn’t possibly be a beginner.”

“But I want to hear _you_ play.”

Jungkook gave him a pleading expression, but Jimin didn’t look like he was going to let up anytime soon.

With a sense of hesitance he hoped wasn’t noticeable, he placed his fingers upon the heavy keys once more. “I haven’t played properly in a million years. I’ve only ever seen the ones at the church.”

“The church,” The corners of Jimin’s lips twitched. “I didn’t realise you were the religious type.”

“Far from it.” Jungkook hated how his voice still wavered. How long will those days continue to haunt him? “The only school we could go to was run by priests. Attending the services was the very bare minimum of being a student there. Once I graduated, I haven’t been to one since. I mean, isn’t it just the same stuff over and over again?”

“Well, you’re not wrong.”

Jungkook frowned. Why did Jimin look so amused? With a nasty shock, he remembered who he was talking to. His face warmed up. “I didn’t mean to insult—”

“It’s fine,” Jimin waved a dismissive hand. “I may be the royal representative, but I’m just playing puppet for them. I don’t particularly care for the church. Memorising religious texts isn’t that difficult of a task compared to the other subjects mother makes me learn.”

“But you speak at the church on Sundays, no?” Jungkook fidgeted with his sleeve. It was practically tradition for the heir apparent to speak at the Grand Cathedral every week, and Jimin didn’t strike him as someone keen on breaking the rules like Kim Taehyung.

“That? That’s nothing. Talking to crowd doesn’t scare me— not anymore, at least.” Jimin broke into a sheepish grin. “Ah, but let’s keep this between us, okay? If word gets out, mother would be a pain in the ass to deal with.”

His mouth dried up when Jimin winked at him. A secret with the prince? What did that even mean for him? What would happen if word _did_ get out?

_Perhaps his mom would receive his body in a bag much earlier than he’d expected…._

“If you’re so inclined to appear religious,” He asked, “Why are you here? I’ve been wondering since I saw you at the banquet the other night— I mean, I’m sure there’s plenty of cathedrals at the capital asking for you. You’re not exactly a subpar student, and, well, you’re the heir apparent.”

“I preferred the arts, that’s all.” Jimin eyes shifted to the piano keys. His fingers traced the white space, his voice laced with a hint of bitterness Jungkook couldn’t help but notice. “What would the cathedral even teach me? Mathematics? Astrology? I doubt they could tell me more than I already know.”

“Hey, what’s with that?” Jungkook nudged him. “You can’t paint your way out of a crisis, you know.”

For a moment, a steely look flashed through Jimin’s eyes. Then, the moment passed, and the familiar warmth had returned to the prince’s smile. “Oh, you don’t have to worry. Mother makes sure I get appropriate lessons in my free time. It’s the trade-off for coming here.”

“That sounds rather insane. Doubling your workload, even with your level of intelligence…”

“That’s why I keep you around.”

“Huh?”

“I don’t really know myself, but, everytime we cross paths…” Jimin sighed as he stretched his arms nonchalantly in the air. “You’re like a breath of fresh air, Jeon Jungkook. Maybe your blatant lack of care towards other people calms me down in a weird way. I don’t need to try as hard around you.”

_—I should've held back._

Jungkook’s right temple pulsed. Jimin didn’t seem to notice his badly-hidden sour expression, and maybe it was for the better.

“That’s…good.”

“It is!” Jimin beamed. “I want to talk with you more.”

“You don’t have other friends?”

His empty laugh sent chills down Jungkook’s spine. “Friends? I wouldn’t call them that.”

Jungkook shifted his weight, a sudden sense of discomfort overwhelming him. The mood was off, and Jimin didn’t seem to want to elaborate; Jungkook was certain he’d already overstepped his bounds multiple times. The silence was tense, and Jungkook hated it now more than ever.

“I wish I could play well.” He blurted.

Jimin’s eyes snapped back to him. His shoulders loosened up, his tone lighter now. “I thought you mentioned playing at the church?”

“Yeah, that was a pretty short experience. Didn’t take too long until I wasn’t allowed to anymore.”

“Were you that bad?” Upon seeing Jungkook’s expression, Jimin’s smile slid off his face. “Oh. Um, what happened?”

“Some… _other_ kids decided I wasn’t worthy enough to play it.”

He watched as the prince’s expression darkened, and Jungkook knew Jimin understood what he was talking about.

_Nobles._

Even though he should’ve been made wary of Jungkook’s distrust, he didn’t say it. Rather, Jimin looked apologetic. He reached out a hand, clasping it over Jungkook’s. “Now you can play whenever you want, okay? I’m sure you’ll be playing concertos in the grand hall in no time.”

“And I’m sure neither of you will be able to do so in your lifetime.”

Jungkook snatched his hand away, startled. A man stood at the doorway, a bemused expression on his face that didn’t quite match the rather condescending words Jungkook heard him say. He was slender and extremely pale, even in comparison to the other nobles who had never worked the fields a day in their lives, yet his sand-colored hair that was barely styled made Jungkook half-convinced he wasn’t one— no noble would dare show up with such a simple look in any social setting.

Jimin seemed unfazed by the man’s sudden appearance, laughing his comment off. “Aw, that’s a bit harsh, isn’t it, sir?”

 _Sir?_ Jungkook glanced at him. This man was Yoongi? This was the guy Hobi said was keen on helping him? Somehow, he found it quite hard to believe that this cold-looking person was capable of showing compassion.

“I’m surprised you’re still not used to it.” Yoongi walked over to his desk and set his papers down. “I can excuse the new kid, but you didn’t even notice the piano was off-key. Have I taught you nothing in the past year?”

The prince pouted and stood, pulling Jungkook up with him. “Have some faith in me! I was too lazy to get up and fix it. You’d get mad if I did it wrong.”

“I wouldn’t. You chipped in to buy this piano, anyway.” Yoongi sighed. “Now go to your seats. I was going to enjoy a few moments alone before class started, but you two decided to show up early, for some reason.”

Jungkook slowly slid into a booth. He had never felt so invisible. Jimin and Yoongi acted more familiar with each other than he’d thought. Granted, Jimin appeared to be the type to be friendly with everyone, regardless of him claiming he had no friends.

“Ah, I was waiting for you, actually. Jungkook got here before me, so I thought, might as well get to know the new kid. You were the one who said I needed more friends, right?”

Yoongi peered at Jimin for a moment too long. Then, the instructor turned away and sifted through his papers, and Jungkook wondered if he had imagined the odd pause. “I’m sure Jin already gave you my schedule. Go to your seat. I passed by some students headed this way a few minutes prior— privacy is not exactly a luxury of ours during this time of day.”

Jimin nodded, and sat next to Jungkook. He sent the prince a wary glance, which he immediately noticed, and Jungkook had to add with haste, “Sorry, was I interrupting something?”

“Nothing important. I just wanted to praise him personally for his skill.” Jimin leaned back in his seat. He seemed to be lost in thought; his sight fixed on something that wasn’t there. “He played particularly well at the last Winter Festival, and I was wondering if he’d be up for it this time, too.”

That sounded rather odd to Jungkook, but he kept his mouth shut. The Winter Festival had ended more than a month ago, after all. Maybe that was commonplace amongst nobles. He had seen people go back-stage to compliment actors after a play back when he snuck into the town hall with his brother all those years ago. Perhaps the delay was the norm amongst the aristocrats— meeting each other probably wasn’t as simple as knocking on a neighbour’s door for the people of the higher class.

Soon, just as Yoongi had so kindly warned them of, students filled up the room, and noticeably, one of them was far less excited than the rest.

Kim Taehyung. As per usual.

Sitting at the far end of the class, the earl rested his head against the wall, staring out of the window. Despite everyone else’s eagerness to listen to Yoongi as he delivered his introduction, he paid it no mind, barely sparing even a glance at their instructor.

Was he hungover again? Jungkook couldn’t help but scowl.

“What’s wrong? I thought you’d be more excited for music class.” Jungkook tore his eyes away from the earl, but Jimin noticed where he had been looking at. The prince rolled his eyes. “Pay him no mind. He’s always like that.”

“Why won’t any instructors tell him off?” Jungkook huffed. “This is just plain disrespectful!”

“Talking in my class is also quite disrespectful, Jeon Jungkook.” Yoongi said smoothly. “Now, if you’d let me finish my course summary, that would be greatly appreciated.”

Jungkook heard a stifled laugh from the back of the class. Kim Taehyung peered at him through his curly fringe; a grin half-hidden behind his fist. Jungkook’s face burned up, and he promptly turned to face the front again.

Jimin gave him a sympathetic look. “Yoongi’s always like that, too. Don’t think too badly of him.”

Jungkook so desperately wanted to hate the instructor after going through such public humiliation, but he couldn’t, no matter how hard he tried, especially after he observed how Yoongi ran the class.

The man was the most mild-mannered person at the school by far— even when Jungkook screwed up when his turn came to play the piano, Yoongi didn’t even let out as much as a sigh. Instead, the instructor simply crossed his arms and hummed, squinting over Jungkook’s shoulder.

“You’re too stiff,” Yoongi observed. “I can tell you’re not comfortable playing yet. Piano is an instrument that requires confidence, you see.”

“Sorry,” Jungkook hung his head, hoping nobody was paying them much attention. The rest of the class were busy doing vocal warm-ups while staring at their sheet music, but Jungkook was less than sure that Yoongi’s already quiet voice couldn’t be heard by their sharp ears. “I promise I’ll get it right next time.”

“Save your apologies,” Yoongi reached over, picking his left hand up and repositioning it on the keys. “It’d be unfair if I expected an amateur to play well. I take it you’re not very used to failure, huh? Hobi told me about you.”

Heat burned his cheeks. “Um, if you’d tell me which part I did wrong—”

“But you already know where you went wrong. You can hear it, right? You pause a little when you slip up.”

“And here I thought I covered it up pretty well.”

“Nothing gets past me; not when the sheet music is this simple, anyway.” Yoongi shrugged. “It’s fine. You just need more practice. Maybe alone, without all these nobles watching you, right?”

Jungkook stiffened. Cold sweat dripped down the side of his face.

“Pardon? Um, what are you asking exactly?”

“It’s okay, it’s nerve-wracking having attention on you. I know how you feel.” Yoongi patted him on the back. “You can come here anytime, the room is pretty far away from anyone’s sleeping quarters, so you don’t need to worry about waking up the whole school.”

“I…thank you, sir. You’re surprisingly nice.”

“This is nothing. I’m just telling you this room’s always open, even at nighttime. Just…if you happen to break curfew,” Yoongi gave him a wry smirk. “You didn’t hear this from me, got it? Now, go away. Word says you’re a better singer than a player.”

The bundle of sheet music Yoongi tossed at him landed so perfectly in his arms that Jungkook almost let out a gasp of amazement. He cleared his throat. “Will you be playing now, sir?”

“Yes, since none of you brats can do this properly.” Yoongi shooed him away. “Also, drop the sir. It makes me feel old.”

Jungkook returned to Jimin’s side. The prince had been watching them with a fond expression, his sheet music forgotten in his hand. “How’d you do?”

“Bad.” Jungkook grumbled, pulling out the same piece as the one Jimin was holding from his own bundle. “I mean, that’s not what he said, but I screwed up a lot.”

“Yeah, that’s why most of us never ask for personal lessons despite his reputation,” Jimin chuckled. “He never points out our mistakes.”

“Doesn’t that make him a bad teacher?”

“I don’t know,” Jimin’s eyes twinkled. “Do you feel like quitting?”

“I suppose not.”

“Then, there’s your answer.”

Jungkook was tempted to argue with his half-baked logic, but Yoongi had started playing, and soon, everyone’s voices rose to join in the melody.

Yoongi’s playing was simple, but despite that, Jungkook could tell there was something different about it. It didn’t possess the usual sound he heard from the capital musicians who came by their little town whenever they do a tour. Was that the reason why the instructor stood out, even amongst the high density of good musicians in the capital?

Perhaps it was due to the instructor’s beautiful and light, yet sad touch on the piano, but the class’ voices blended well together as they sang along. Half of these nobles grew up in church, Jungkook realised. Singing in a choir was probably nothing new to them, but it gave Jungkook an unexpected sense of belonging— like he was finally just existing with all these eccentric people.

Even with the volume of their combined voices, Jungkook could hear Jimin’s distinct tone mixed in there. Pressed together side by side, Jungkook could hear him loud and clear— his voice was sweet with an angelic quality to it that matched his equally pure appearance. The prince’s face was the most unguarded he had seen it yet— eyes that fluttered close, lips that were tugged up slightly at the ends.

Jungkook couldn’t look away.

“Good, much better that last winter.” Yoongi called out, and Jungkook realised simultaneously that everyone had stopped singing, and Jimin had caught him staring with his mouth agape.

“Something on my face?” Jimin giggled.

“No, I just…” Jungkook clamped his jaw shut. “Uh, you sing well.”

“Oh,” The prince’s eyebrows lifted up in surprise. Was it a trick of the light, or were Jimin’s cheeks turning pink? “Thank you. Not a lot of people would agree with you.”

“Then, they must have bad taste.”

“That’s an exaggeration, but thanks for indulging me. You’re not too bad yourself, Jungkook.” Jimin nodded. “So, are you coming here again tonight? I overheard what Yoongi said.”

“Maybe,” Jungkook glanced at the class. Everyone was packing up their stuff, and Yoongi was dusting off his leather seat with folded up sheet music. Was Jimin saying what he thought he was saying? “Why do you ask?”

“I might stop by here, though I’m not sure when I’ll be free.” Jimin pouted, reaching over and gathering his items. “I’ll see you later?”

“See you.”

And that was the sole reason why when night had rolled around, Jungkook found himself glued to the hallway, knuckles half-raised to the door.

He had oh-so-confidently walked up when he heard the faint sound of piano echoing throughout the hallway, with a level of skill that rivalled those who received royal education. It must be Jimin, he had foolishly thought, with an amount of excitement he found embarrassing.

Yet, the voice that sang a moment later— it certainly didn’t belong to the prince. It was much too deep, and much too sultry to belong to the pure-looking, delicate Jimin.

The door was already slightly ajar, and with his curiosity reaching its limit, Jungkook peeked inside.

Kim Taehyung sat at the piano, his fingers moving almost desperately across the keys, the rippling of his back muscles visible even through his mud-stained shirt from the sheer force of his pounding. His sword was still attached to his hip, and his curly locks were weighed down from sweat. Jungkook frowned. What was he doing there so late at night, with the lights half-on, still in his training clothes? Why was he playing like tonight was his last day living? Why was he singing like he was mourning over a lover's death?

“What are you doing?”

Jungkook tensed as a familiar weight clamped down upon his shoulders, and he whirled around.

Jimin stood there, his smooth skin softened by the dim moonlight. He didn't know what he had expected to see, but his face certainly wasn't as welcoming as it had looked just that morning. His shirt dipped low, exposing the pale skin of his toned upper torso. His pendant moved with the slow rise and fall of his chest— carefully-crafted wings of gold hanging off of the thin silver chains. The hand that gripped Jungkook left charcoal stains upon the white cloth.

“I…I thought it was you playing.”

It unnerved him that Jimin hadn’t once met his eyes. “Go to bed.”

“But you said—”

“Maybe some other time, okay?” Finally, Jimin was looking at him. Even so, his gaze felt distant. “Good night, Jungkook.”

Jungkook pursed his lips, wanting to say more; but he held his tongue. He turned away.

“Good night, Jimin.”


End file.
